


More Like a Nightmare

by SecondhandStockholm



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Team as Family, Teen Pregnancy, Vomiting, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 09:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondhandStockholm/pseuds/SecondhandStockholm
Summary: The criminals in Gotham are gross. Stephanie knows this.Stephanie had a bad childhood. Bruce knows this.One patrol, these two facts come together.





	More Like a Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Because Stephanie Brown rocks and doesn't get enough attention. Also DC Comics is convinced that Bruce doesn't like her much and I'm here to change that.
> 
> This story includes non-graphic descriptions of sexual assault, except for one instance of groping. If you have a dislike of vomiting you might wanna steer clear, there's some kinda gross descriptions of trauma-induced vomiting. 
> 
> Please stay safe y'all!!!
> 
> *title comes from "Two" by The Antlers, quite a bit of the lyrics fit well with this piece*
> 
> Also I think I figured out formatting. Maybe. Woohoo!

The criminals in Gotham are gross. Stephanie knows this. She’s known this longer than she’s known how babies are made, or Pythagorean's theorem. She knew it long before she was Robin. 

Stephanie had a bad childhood. Bruce knows this. He knows from his interactions with Cluemaster what a bastard he was, and when Tim had told him that his new girlfriend was the daughter of Cluemaster, his son wasn’t the only one he was concerned for. He had done his own research on the girl, of course. Batman was nothing if not thorough. Jason had preferred the word “paranoid” but what did he know. 

Bruce knew that Stephanie Brown has a shithead for a father. He knew that, once, when Stephanie was 9, she was treated for a broken wrist at Gotham General. According to her records, the cause of the injury was a trip. 

Bruce wasn’t born yesterday. 

So Arthur Brown was a bastard, and had, at least on one occasion, taken his anger out on Stephanie. Based on how hesitant the girl was to talk about her mother, Bruce suspected she wasn’t the only one subject to Arthur Brown’s rage. 

But Stephanie didn’t talk about her past, and Bruce sure as shit wasn’t going to pry it out of her, so what little he knew would be all he knew.

Until one night in June.

It was a hot night, the air sticky and thick. The Batman perched quietly on the edge of a roof, eyes scanning the streets below for trouble. Robin flopped down beside him, deliberate but no less quiet, and smirked when she saw the telltale signs of irritation coming from under Bruce’s cowl. 

“What now, bossman?” She quipped, eyes gazing down. She had never been afraid of heights.

“Scanner picked up a GCPD call, trouble over in Market District, but it’s quiet now.” 

Stephanie hummed to herself, thinking this over.

“Maybe they heard you were coming and turned tail.” Stephanie offered, a blend of caustic and sincere that she had mastered since knowing Bruce. 

Bruce didn’t take the bait. 

“There.” He said, getting out of his crouch. With nothing more than a nod in a general direction, he was off, repelling down to the foggy streets below. Stephanie huffed and followed him. A man of many words, Bruce was not.

Upon landing, Stephanie caught up with the Bat, who had turned into an alleyway. Well, Stephanie thought, ‘alleyway’ was a bit generous, this thing was a shoebox. The stones that comprised the walkway were dark, and the unmistakable, but oh-so-familiar scent of piss and cigarettes- Gotham’s brand- clouded her nose.

Before she had a chance to speak, Steph noticed that Bruce had a man cornered, and upon further observation, saw that beneath the man was a young woman, a terrified look plastered on her face.

The would-be-rapist blanched upon seeing the Bat in all his glory, but after a moment, regained enough confidence to sneer. 

“Back off, asshole, I ain’t afraid of you.” 

“Is that so.” Deadpanned Bruce, unphased. He tilted his head so he was looking at the frightened woman on the ground. “Run.” 

She didn’t have to be told twice. After a brief moments’ hesitation, she pushed herself up, grabbed her broken pump and stumbled off. Stephanie watched her go. She smiled at the woman, in a way she hoped was reassuring, but the woman’s eyes never left the ground. 

Looking back, Steph noticed Bruce’s full attention was now on the man, who had planted his feet firmly on the slick ground. Steph grinned. It was almost time for a fight.

She stepped forward, having previously been obscured from the man’s view by Bruce’s imposing figure.

“Go ahead, asshole, make my night.” She said, goading the man on. She knew without looking that Bruce was making a disapproving face. She’d lost count of the amount of times he’d lectured her on why de-escalation was the better strategy, but she’d known men like this, they wouldn’t just stop. 

The douchebag smirked at her.

“Well ain’t you gorgeous.” 

Stephanie scowled, unaware that her expression matched Bruce’s. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” She said archly, reminding herself to stand tall.

“Well what will, darling, cause I can think of a few somewheres I’d like to be…” The man trailed off, eyes raking ravenously over Steph’s body.

She suppressed a shudder, reminded herself to stay focused. 

_“Never let yourself become distracted.”_ Bruce had said, weeks ago, during a particularly brutal training session. _“That’s what they want.”_

“Alright, cut the chit-chat, it’s time for us to kick your ass.” Steph proclaimed, getting into fighting position. She glanced at Bruce, who turned his head just slightly, and then it was go time.

Batman swung his leg out, knocking the man off his feet. He hit the ground with an “oof”, and Steph was by his side in an instant, foot on his chest. The man struggled, but didn’t get up. It was a shame, Stephanie thought, she liked it when they put up a fight. It made it that much more satisfying to knock their sorry asses down again. 

“Zip ties, Robin.” Batman instructed, and she reached into her belt for one. Her eyes were only off the man for a minute, but it was long enough for him to grab her ankle and pull her down, the force of it shocking Steph. She landed on top of the man, who wasted no time using Steph’s momentary shock to rub his hands up her chest, stopping on her breasts.

Steph yelped and jumped up, just in time to watch Bruce stomp down on the man’s face with his boot. He was out cold. 

Steph had backed up against the wall, shaking, trying to catch her breath. She barely registered as Bruce knelt down, picking up the zip tie she had dropped and securing the unconscious man’s hands behind his back. When he was finished he stood up, approaching Stephanie.

He was saying something, Stephanie registered, and she finally realized he’d been calling her name. Not her real one, of course, Bruce was a real bitch about following the rules he’d created.

“Robin! Are you with me?” His voice was gruff and slightly irritated, most likely confused as to why she had suddenly clammed up.

Steph snapped her head back to look Bruce in the eye. She nodded, and, feeling the telltale sign of saliva pooling in her mouth, hoped she had the strength to not throw up all over Bruce’s shoes.

She did not.

She bent down, falling onto her knees in a last-ditch effort to avoid puking on Bruce, and heaved. She felt the partially-digested remnants of the dinner Alfred had made come back up, and the sight of it made her gag more. She puked for what seemed like an unreasonable time, and it wasn’t until she was finished, coughing and spitting out thick strings of bile and saliva, that she registered Bruce had knelt next to her, one hand holding her hair back, the other rubbing small circles into her shoulder. 

“Fuck.” She said, shakily falling back. Bruce helped her to her feet, then eyed her critically. She could tell he was calculating all the reasons Steph could be sick in his head. Steph was already humiliated at having ralphed in front of the Batman, and now here he was, giving her all his attention. Her face flamed.

She caught the almost imperceptible glance of his eyes down to her stomach, and suddenly felt smaller, if that was at all possible.

Steph took a step back toward the main street, legs still weak. “C’mon bossman,” She started, hoping her voice sounded normal, “we got bitches to catch.”

“Go home, Robin. I need to stop by GCPD and drop him off.” He had started to walk back to the perp, roughly pulling the man, who was blearily starting to come to, to his feet. Stephanie recognized the blunt dismissal but was too shook up to argue. She nodded and, after a moment to take a breath, left for the cave. As she walked down the alleyway, Steph wasn’t sure which to put her attention into ignoring: the sting of Bruce’s dismissal, or the feeling of his eyes on her back, watching her leave.

-

When she got back to the cave, she immediately headed off to the showers. She stripped quickly, avoiding the mirrors, and stepped in. The water was just hot enough to be uncomfortable, but that was the way Steph liked it. She could remember conversations with Tim where she’d been lectured on the dangers of too-hot bath water but, as far as Steph was concerned, he could suck it. Steph had developed this habit years ago and wasn’t about to give it up now. 

She scrubbed her body roughly, detached. She frowned as she stepped out, realizing she had taken one of her patented “shame showers”. It had been months since the last. 

Steph bit her lip, grabbing some sweats and a tank top from the lockers, not caring who they belonged to. After a moment’s hesitation, she went back and grabbed a hoodie, too. 

As she stepped out of the locker room, she saw a tray set by the stairs, a steaming mug and a sandwich placed in the center. She smiled. Alfred knew she was back, then. 

 

She grabbed the tray and plopped down into a swivel chair by the medbay, waiting for Bruce. She didn’t know how much longer he’d be out, it was only 2 a.m. She steeled herself for a shitty night of waiting, and an even shittier conversation when Bruce returned. She’d considered, in the shower, putting this off until morning, but something about the idea of giving Bruce any more time to speculate had her squirming. Bruce was a brilliant man, the smartest Steph had ever met, but sometimes leaving him alone to his thoughts was like leaving a toddler with a loaded gun.

Steph ate in silence, using the time to think about her plan of action. She had stories about her life that no one else knew. She was sure Bruce, with his emotional incompetence, would make any attempt Stephanie made to open up to the man as awkward as humanly possible. Still, she thought, this relationship was about trust, and if she was going to keep waiting for Bruce to initiate bonding sessions, she’ll sooner die of old age than get anywhere. 

She had just come to the conclusion that she would tell Bruce as much as she felt she could handle without completely falling apart when the Batmobile came gliding in. She looked up and immediately felt her heart hitch. Okay, so maybe she was a bit more freaked out than she cared to admit. 

Bruce stepped out, pulling back his cowl and running a hand through graying hair- hair that, Stephanie observed with some amusement, was much grayer than before he had met her- before meeting her gaze.

Stephanie hoped she looked more casual than she felt. 

“I’m not pregnant.” She said, going for untroubled but missing the mark by a long shot.

Bruce paused in his routine dismantling of the batsuit. He looked up at her for a moment before continuing. The silence stretched on for a moment.

“I don’t believe I said I thought you were.” His tone wasn’t clipped, but Steph knew it had every right to be. She’d fucked up out in the field, and here she was busting his balls for doing what he always did, going through all the possibilities.

“You didn’t have to say anything. I saw the way you looked at me after I threw up. ‘Oh no, Steph got herself knocked up again.’” Her tone was biting, she knew it, and yet she couldn’t stop it.

Bruce’s reply was slow, deliberate. “I considered it as a possible explanation, yes, but I dismissed it. You weren’t showing any other symptoms.” 

Steph nodded, processing this. She didn’t know how to feel, if she was being honest with herself. Relief, maybe, that Bruce didn’t seem angry. Embarrassment, definitely, that Bruce had even considered it an option, knowing her past. There was also a creeping worry that Stephanie had tried to not give any time of day to, that if Bruce had moved on past morning sickness he would inevitably connect her sick spell with the perp they’d been with. 

Bruce’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Stephanie.” He said, and Steph noted that this was Bruce talking, that all traces of the Batman had faded away, though he was still in parts of the suit.

Steph looked up, willing herself to meet his eyes. She was taken aback by the sincerity she found in them.

“Your past had nothing to do with my line of reasoning. I promise you.” Stephanie nodded, cheeks flaming as she felt tears slipping down her face.

“Sorry about my freakout tonight. Jeez, talk about embarrassing.” She laughed, but it fell flat in the largeness of the cave. Bruce seemed to think through his next sentence before saying it.

“I would appreciate an explanation, but I’m not going to force you to say anything.” With that, Bruce headed off to the showers, their conversation over for now.

Steph sighed, picking up the tray and heading upstairs.

-

In the kitchen, Steph found Alfred, humming a tune as he washed glasses. She set her empty tray down in the sink and leaned over, giving a quick peck to the butler’s cheek. 

She perched on an island chair, wiping her still-damp eyes. Alfred looked up, prepared to ask about the evening, as was his usual, but stopped when he saw Steph’s face.

“Miss Stephanie, are you alright? Do you require medical attention?” His face showed concern.

She shook her head, attempting a winning smile and knowing from the way Alfred’s expression hadn’t changed that it wasn’t winning at all, but rather watery. 

“Just a crappy patrol.” She afforded, falling silent again. After a moment’s hesitation, Alfred turned off the faucet, wiped his hands on a dishtowel, and sat down next to Stephanie. 

“I would appreciate a more thorough explanation than that, _Steph_.” 

Stephanie smiled. Getting Alfred to call her anything other than “Miss Stephanie” had been an ongoing- and losing- battle for her. She must’ve looked really upset for him to resort to such manipulative tactics. Not that Steph was complaining. She’d count it as a win for her.

She sighed, wondering how much she should divulge. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the man, far from it, she had probably opened up to him more than anyone else in the house, except for Tim and Cass. She was just drained. It’d been a long night, and she still owed Bruce an explanation. 

“We cornered a guy, some wannabe rapist, and he said some gross stuff.” Alfred’s brow furrowed. 

“Would I be correct in assuming this ‘gross stuff’ was directed at you?” Steph nodded, deciding not to tell him how the guy had gotten a little handsy. She wasn’t sure she could handle that humiliation.

“I kind of freaked out, and might’ve thrown up.” Alfred’s eyebrows raised. “It wasn’t like he did anything, really, it just brought back some bad memories.”

At the silence she was met with, she raised her eyes to meet his. He looked upset, but there was also a polite absence of comprehension. He didn’t know anything about her past. Right.

“My dad...he wasn’t a great guy.” She hoped Alfred would read between the lines and pick up what she wasn’t ready to put down. 

Alfred’s lips tightened into a line, and he grabbed one of Steph’s hands, squeezing gently.

“I’m terribly sorry for the ordeal you suffered, Miss Stephanie.” 

Steph smile, small but genuine. “You know me, Alf, I’ll be fine in no time.” 

A noise made her look up. Bruce had emerged from the Batcave, clad in sweats and a t-shirt, his hair tousled and wet. He observed the scene for a moment, before turning his attention to Alfred.

“Alfred, would you make sure Stephanie’s guest bedroom is prepared? She’s staying the night.” 

It was a testament to the state of things that Stephanie did not protest even the slightest.

Alfred nodded, getting off the chair. “Certainly, sir.” He gave Stephanie’s hand one more firm squeeze before heading off, presumably to make sure Steph’s guest room california king bed had fresh sheets. Not that he needed to, of course, Alfred changed them regularly.

With just the two of them left in the room, it was quiet. Bruce eventually sighed, motioning for Steph to follow him. He lead them past his bedroom, thank god- not that Steph didn’t trust Bruce, she trusted him with her life, but being in his room would’ve made this too personal way too fast- and into his study. 

He sat down in a plush leather armchair and motioned for her to sit in the adjacent seat. She sat slowly, a part of her brain still telling her to bolt, but held her place. She watched as Bruce took her in, his gaze sweeping over her frame. She noted, with relief, how different his look was from that asshole that had groped her. He wasn’t looking at her like she was a piece of meat, but rather a friend with a problem he was eager to help sort out.

Steph cleared her throat. “So you saw how I freaked out on patrol.” She started, immediately feeling stupid. Of course he saw, he saw her puke on the fucking ground, for God’s sake. 

Bruce nodded.

“Well, okay, so…” She trailed off. She really didn’t have the slightest clue how to delve into this particular topic. Not that she hadn’t thought of it. God, the amount of nights she stayed awake agonizing over the ways she’d been wronged. 

_Fuck it_ , she thought, _I’m not going to apologize for the things I can’t control._

She sighed, steeling herself. “My dad always had friends over. I mean always. I can’t remember a time when I came home from school and didn’t see a bunch of dudes smoking and playing poker.”

She saw Bruce’s brow furrow. This is clearly not where he expected the conversation to go. 

“They were dicks, but they mostly left me alone. Well, until I hit puberty.” Her voice was carefully neutral, she really didn’t want to go flying off the handle- again- with Bruce, so she used every ounce of self control she had to restrict herself from giving too much away. A cursory glance at Bruce showed that he was stiff in his chair. He was fucking smart, ok, it wasn’t like he was going to have a hard time putting the pieces together.

“When I was twelve, my dad started letting his guys…” She struggled for a word. “Play with me, for money. There were rules my dad put in place. Clothes had to stay on. At least, at first.” She shifted uncomfortably.

“I didn’t know what was going on. My dad told me I had to do it, that if I didn’t behave he would be disappointed in me.” The words came out carefully, like she was testing each one.

“When I turned thirteen he put me on birth control. He told me the pills were to make me feel better. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, I wasn’t sick.” 

She didn’t dare glance at Bruce.

“After that, his friends were allowed to do what they wanted to me, so long as it didn’t leave any permanent marks. I hated every minute of it. It hurt, and it made me so angry that after a while I just felt numb because it was preferable to the fear that came with stepping into that apartment.”

She paused for a minute, letting herself gather her thoughts. The next part was probably the hardest thing she’d ever gone through in her life, and now she was sharing it with Bruce. Even Tim didn’t know the whole truth. 

“This continued for years. When I turned fifteen, I decided that I would take back control in any way I could.”

Bruce was still silent. One of the best things about him was how diligent a listener he was. She looked at him. His eyes were dark, his face grim. 

“He left it up to me to keep up with the birth control.” 

Bruce’s face flashed with understanding. 

“I started going out, finding guys closer to my age. I thought it was the only way I could get any control over my life.” She heard a shift, and saw Bruce shift forward in his chair, hands clasped. His expression was inscrutable.

“When he found out I was pregnant, he told me to get rid of it. Said it was bad for business. I didn’t. It wasn’t my baby’s fault that their mom was an idiot. They deserved a chance. I left for the rest of my pregnancy, didn’t come back until my baby was long gone, handed over to parents who could give them everything they deserve.” The words came out strained, her voice quivering with a pain that would never completely go away. 

She closed her eyes, embarrassment flooding over her in waves. She heard a shift and felt gentle arms pulling her up. She clung to Bruce tightly, squeezing like her life depended on it. She felt rough hands stroking her hair, and faintly registered soft reassuring noises coming from Bruce.

She cried for what she felt was an embarrassingly long amount of time, letting the hurt the years had given her finally be heard. Bruce didn’t seem to mind.

When she was done, she stood there, trembling from emotional exhaustion. She realized, with a grimace, that the front of Bruce’s shirt was soaked through with her tears.

“I’m sorry-” She began, desperately grabbing for ways to backtrack, to be on more familiar terms with the man who was more of a father to her than hers ever would be.

“Don’t you dare apologize.” She took a step back, confusion clear on her face.  
“What happened to you was not your fault, Stephanie. You are not the product of those who hurt you. You’re a survivor.” 

Steph nodded, furiously wiping tears from her face. 

“It’s just hearing those things tonight, it reminded me of a place I never want to go back to.” 

Bruce nodded understandingly. “Stephanie, I want you to know how much I appreciate you telling me this. That takes courage.”

Stephanie scoffed, but Bruce was quick to continue.

“I’m serious. What happened to you was cruel, and unconscionable, and you survived. You made it through and went on to help others. I am so proud of you for that.” 

Stephanie smiled, a little unsure, not used to receiving praise.

They sat back down, side by side on the sofa that had been there since Bruce could remember. They were silent for a moment, enjoying each other’s company, lost in thought.

“I don’t regret it.”

Bruce looked up, a question clear in his eyes, as Stephanie continued.

“Giving up my baby. It hurts like hell to think about, but I know I did the right thing. I’m just not over it.”

Bruce shifted to put an arm around her shoulder. Steph relaxed into his embrace. 

“I don’t think you ever will.” Bruce said, gently. 

Steph snorted. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, B.” 

Bruce shook his head. “I didn’t say that to make you feel worse. I mean that I know from experience what it’s like to lose a child.” 

And what the hell could Steph say to that? She could argue, of course, that it wasn’t the same. And it wasn’t. Jason had died, sure, and Steph knew how hard a blow that had been for Bruce. But Jason came back. Jason was in Bruce’s life, even if it wasn’t ever going to be how it was before, the way it could’ve been.

“ _Oh_.” Steph thought. “ _Maybe that’s what he means_.” 

She sighed. There was quiet. 

“Who knew all it took for you to be so nice was me sharing all my most traumatic experiences.” Steph quipped, and felt rather than saw Bruce’s groan.

“Don’t blame me for ruining the moment, man, you knew it was never gonna last. That’s not how we operate.” 

Bruce’s reply was tentative. 

“It could be, if you wanted.” At the incredulous look on Stephanie’s face, Bruce attempted to backtrack. “Only sometimes, of course.”

“Bruce Michael Wayne, are you going soft on me?”

“That’s not my middle name.”

Stephanie ignored him. “Don’t worry, I hear that happens frequently to senior citizens.”

“And we’re done.” Bruce said, standing up off the couch. 

Steph stood up too, feeling drained. She was ready to crash on her four-figure guest room mattress and not open her eyes for at least 12 hours. 

As she walked out the door, she heard Bruce call her name once more. She turned around. 

“Yeah, B?” She asked, confidence slowly but surely creeping back into her tone.

“This family loves you.”

Steph smiled, knowing what he meant between the unsaid.

“Right back at ya, B.”

In her room, she found sleep almost instantly.


End file.
